Eva: This is much better than the McCigarette, where employees stubbed their cigarettes out in Americans' burgers.

Ian: Je t'aime'n' it.

For some reason, NPR keeps denying us a travel budget, so we made our own, with a Quarter Pounder and some store-bought Camembert. The cheese was roughly four times the price of the sandwich.

Tom Bodett: I didn't mind the sandwich, but now there is a cultural war going on in my gut. Caught between French and American forces, I feel like Cornwallis at Yorktown.

Mike: This sandwich explains the expression on the Mona Lisa's face. She's not quite smiling, not quite frowning. And maybe she just farted.

Ian: Weird. My copy of French Women Don't Get Fat just vanished into thin air.

Mike: The French have an advantage. When they gorge on McDonald's, their names are ready: e.g., Catherine Deneuewww. Or Gerard Depardewww. Brigitte Barfdot.

Miles: Or Napoleon Bonafart.

Mike: Or Victor Huge.

Eva: The Palace of Ver-pie.

Mike: This could go on a long time.

Ian: Albert CaMOOOOO.

Eva: The Biggest Louvre.

Ian: McDonald's is different in France. A Quarter Pounder is a "Royale With Cheese" and the Grimace is "the look on everyone's face."

Tom: The aftertaste is certainly persistent, but not as bad as last year's Moscow McCaviar.

Miles: It feels like I have several feet in my mouth. Is this what life tastes like for Joe Biden?

[The verdict: a split decision. Mike and Tom both liked it, while the rest of us were correct. Now, to be fair, we're not exactly following the McDonald's recipe, so it's possible we're missing some nuance (or other French-sounding word). The Camembert really overpowers the sandwich. It tastes a little bit like I look in a suit: It's supposed to be fancy, but it doesn't quite work.]